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“Look, I was going to tell you this tonight. We found that little bitch Joe. He’s handcuffed to a hospital bed, so you don’t have to worry about him bothering you.”
“Good. Thank you.”
In response, Isaac just says, “I’m sorry,” before he ends the call, sending the message loud and clear.
Whatever was going on between us is officially over. There’s no longer any reason for him or any other MC guys to come by and watch my town house. I’m safe.
Why doesn’t that make me feel any better?
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Isaac
On the way home from the bar, I try to think of all the things Lyla could tell me that could be worse than her dropping out of school.
At least she’s not pregnant. Or getting married to some loser. She’s not addicted to drugs or an alcoholic, as far as I know.
The reasons why my sweet, brilliant daughter would walk away from college evade me. Still, I can’t expect her to tell me everything that’s going on in her life.
Just as I don’t tell her about everything in mine. Such as how I’ve been screwing around with her best friend.
After I back my bike into the garage and kill the engine, I take ten slow, deep breaths. Lyla’s car is parked next to my motorcycle. I can see through the glass windows that it’s still piled high with her luggage and boxes. My own daughter, so scared that she won’t bring her shit inside in case I flip out on her.
I’m not going to flip out.
Lyla’s my baby girl. I’d do anything for her, even bite my tongue when she’s making what I think is a big fucking mistake.
Underneath my disappointment is also a simmering anger. Not at Lyla, but at myself because I won’t be spending the night with Holly. Only one night in her bed, not even touching her, but I still fucking miss it. Miss her.
Climbing off my bike, I stomp up the three wooden stairs to the kitchen door. Three sets of eyes all stare at me from the dining table, one filled with fear and stubbornness. Sometimes I forget Lyla didn’t get that from me but from another man. A horrible human being.
I hate that she looks at me like that, as if she’s afraid of me. I know I’ve been overprotective her entire life, especially while Laurel does as she pleases, but for good reason.
I’m still trying to make up for not being able to save her mother.
“Hi, Dad,” Lyla says sweetly.
“Well, I don’t want to be collateral damage,” Laurel mutters when she stands up from her chair. “Come on, Grandma.”
“I’m fine where I am,” my mother replies. She’ll stay and referee, of course, to jump in if I lose my temper.
I won’t. Not tonight.
While I’m upset that Lyla’s made a huge decision without even talking to me first, I’m also…deflated and depressed.
Remembering that Holly warned me I’m supposed to be surprised she’s home, I say, “What are you doing home so early?”
I head for the fridge to get a can of beer, reminding myself not to yell. Not to bite her head off.
“Your car looked awfully full too. How long is this spring break of yours?” I ask with the refrigerator door blocking my face from view as I pop the top to take the first sip.
“That’s…I wanted to talk to you about that. My classes were…I couldn’t do it anymore, Dad. Instead of failing, I dropped them. All of them, for the spring semester.”
I swallow half the contents of the can.
“Did you hear me, Dad?”
“I heard you,” I mutter as I close the refrigerator door and finally look at her, study her face as I lean my back against the appliance. Thank fuck she looks just like her mother and her sister and not like her son-of-a-bitch father. “You dropped your classes for the spring. Why?”
